


Mirror Mirror

by Left_Handed_Darkness



Series: The man who defied the gods [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Magic, Magical Accidents, Other, Past Lives, Pillars Prompts Weekly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Darkness/pseuds/Left_Handed_Darkness
Summary: A spell gone awry forces a confrontation between the Watcher and his past incarnation.





	Mirror Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Done for Pillars Prompts Weekly #75 - the theme this week being "Double" - where the Watcher meets an alternate version of themselves.
> 
> I might revisit this one and make it longer in the future. There's more to be said about the meaning of identity in a world where people might have many lives, but all too often each death scrubs them of their memories and identity. I'm still pondering over this topic, though it might fit a discussion with Iovara far better.
> 
> Note: this is set between Pillars and Deadfire, and does go into somewhat spoilery territory.

_ An essential phantom is a ghostly double created from the caster’s essence. Whilst more advanced projections possess some limited spellcasting ability, the basic form of the spell only allows for mundane actions and the projection of an electrical charge. _

* * *

It was staring at him.

Dark eyes, a narrow face, and black hair surrounded by a nimbus of energy. It didn’t even wear his clothes; instead opting for a long dark cloak and the ceremonial garb of an ancient order. There was sorrow in his eyes, but also something else, something fierce.

_ Hope _ .

Saviéran was quiet, taking stock of the apparition that stood before him. Recognition bloomed in his mind as he examined the robes, the cloak, and the Engwithan iconography that his projection wore. The phantom simply peered at him with the wonder of an infant, seeing the world through open eyes for the first time.

“ _ Thank you _ . For saving us both.” The words were uttered in a long dead language, spoken quietly yet on the verge of overflowing with emotion.

A chill ran down the animancer’s spine, the grimoire falling out of his hands with a clatter. Loose sheets of notepaper fluttered out from between its pages, scattering across the floor. He barely noticed the sound, or that his hands were bereft of their burden - his mind was racing.

The inquisitor however simply smiled and began collecting the fallen papers. Energy and essence crackled with every slow movement - he seemed a little unsteady, as if he’d just woken from a deep slumber, and was taking care not to damage anything.

Wordlessly - breathlessly - Saviéran retrieved his grimoire, eyes wide open and  _ watching _ this awakened soul. He’d seen illusions and conjurations before; projections of false images, wizard’s doubles, and all manner of carnival tricks. But not once had they had any awareness of their own.

The animancer was began through his journal, looking for answers, to find out where the spell had gone wrong. To find out  _ how _ this could have happened. Yet his thoughts were interrupted by a polite interruption as the wayward papers were returned by ghostly, calloused hands.

“You’re…  _ him _ , aren’t you?”

“Us, yes. Or perhaps I’m just a memory, one that was buried for so long but never lost.”

Saviéran’s face went blank, his heart filling with a cold unease.

“That may be so, but it only serves to highlight the cruelties of the cycle we’re chained to. You’re Engwithan, you would have known that your memories might have awakened some day. Perhaps even in the mind of an innocent, or at the heart of a troubled soul who wouldn’t be able to bear the horrors that  _ you _ inflicted on the world.”   
  
“I… know.”

“Then why didn’t you fling yourself into the depths of Breith Eaman where you belong, with all those who suffered and died because of you?” His words were firm yet quiet, carrying an accusatory tone that sounded sharp enough to draw blood.

“Because… because even if I couldn't do anything, maybe someone else could. My life was quickly approaching its end; even if the position I held was vital to the inquisition, the person  _ holding _ it was just another pair of hands to operate the rack. And if my hands stilled or if I asked the wrong questions, I would have been my replacement’s next victim.” The inquisitor’s hand slowly moved to his throat, adjusting his collar. There was emotion in his voice; and understanding, resignation, and a hint of the shame he had bore for so long. “If I was trapped beneath the Court of the Penitents, then there would have been nothing that I - that we - could have done.”

“So you killed yourself, hoping that it would all work out?”

“I was hoping that I'd make a difference, somewhere that I wasn't under the scrutiny of the Leaden Key. And then-” that weak, hopeful smile returned. He hadn't entirely braced himself after the shock, but there was still gratitude in his voice. “-you began remembering.”

Saviéran sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Which wasn't all that welcome. I would have been looking for answers even without those visions.”

“But they led us to them in the end.”

“I admit, that much is true. It led to the end of the hollowborn crisis, which might have taken longer if I'd been holed up at Cilant Lîs, pondering over the nature of the device there.”

The phantom nodded, his smile gaining a little more strength.

“That doesn't mean that I forgive you for the horrors you inflicted. For all that talk of bringing peace and ending barbaric practices,  _ your _ inquisition sacrificed a lot of people. Slowly, in ways that none deserve to endure.”

Dark eyes softened, and the inquisitors’ shoulders drooped. “I don't expect you to. Even in my final days, the horrors that I inflicted haunted me. I thought that my actions were just, and then I discovered that it was for a cause as empty as dead adra.” he sighs, a hollow echo that makes the hall seem so much quieter.

“And the things you did still continue today.” Saviéran raised his right hand, displaying the scars and the fingers left crooked by the Steel Garrote's treatment. “Your successors see mercy and lenience as a weakness to be purged.”

“Which is why I couldn't let myself become yet another prisoner in the Court of the Penitents. You know as well as I do that  _ we _ have to make a stand.”

Saviéran shook his head, silvery hair shifting with a life of its own. “That doesn't make me feel any less defiled by your actions or your beliefs. My hands feel as bloody as yours, knowing that my existence and identity hinges in the things you did.”

The ghost looked pained, yet sympathy lay in his soft expression. “Maybe so, but it's not my values you carry - they're closer to Iovara's. Even though she's been forgotten, the compassion and hope that moved me now lives on in you. And you've done more with it than I ever had a chance to. You're  _ not _ the man I was.”

“That still raises a question; just how much of my own mind is my own, and how many of my choices were influenced by yours?” The animancer raised an eyebrow at his echo, hoping dearly for answers that still evaded him. For all his knowledge and the advances of his field, there were still things that remained in the shadows.

“I can't say. I was only a missionary, kept ignorant of the truth until the very end. But what I do know is that I'm proud to have you as my successor; that you're far braver, kinder, and independent than I was.” The spirit shrugs, shaking his head. 

“Perhaps you’re right, and it’s not you that lingers within me. When I met Iovara, I felt as if every suspicion that lingered in the back of my mind had clicked into place. Pieces of a puzzle that I'd been scrambling to complete in impenetrable darkness  _ finally  _ made sense. Yet it's still… jarring to consider how much of my life might have been influenced on an unconscious level by lives that were never my own.” Saviéran crossed his arms, pinning his grimoire to his chest. He sighed through his nostrils, mind churning over the matter with discomfort.

“For what little it's worth… I apologise for the distress I've caused you. That was never my intent.”

There was silence for a minute as Saviéran looked at the phantom. Whilst he’d never awakened with the intensity Aloth and Iselmyr had, a quiet fascination arose amidst the discomfort he felt.  He’d projected a  _ buried persona _ and its memories into a conjured phantom, one that had begun to defy all he’d expected from his past life. Sorrow and joy mingled in his heart - in  _ their _ heart, and he couldn’t help but wish that the world had been kinder.

Accusations would help no-one, now.

“No, there's no need for an apology. Even though you followed Thaos into a nightmare of his own creation, you did what little you could to get away from that. You wanted a second chance - or the opportunity to pass on the torch, for someone to finish what you so mistakenly began. I won't begrudge you for wanting to rectify your mistakes - not when your own position was impossible.” Saviéran pauses, looking at the soul-fragment with a hint of pity. “ _ Sod it _ , it looks like I forgive you after all. Perhaps not for everything, but the trouble you caused me is a good starting place.”

A warm smile spread across the inquisitor’s face. The man looked all-out to cry, a gesture inhibited by his incorporeal existence. Yet the spell was fading - Saviéran’s concentration had broken. With one last effort, the inquisitor brushed a stray lock of hair away from his successor's face, a gesture so light and gentle that it might as well have been a soft breeze. Then he let himself dissipate, the essence flooding back into the animancer’s soul.

As the spell faded with a crackle of energy, Saviéran felt at peace. A tear rolled down his cheek - the sensation almost going ignored as his mind churned over what had occurred.

He could have sworn that he wasn’t the one crying.


End file.
